Tears of Flames
by Violent Vi
Summary: What happens to the losers after the war ends? Is there peace with honor or will the victors lash out in retribution? The seeds of hatred have been sown and in time a new war will come to the world.


**Tears of Flames**

**Freedom is a Melon **

**By Violent Vi **

* * *

Disclaimer 

I don't own any rights to the

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* * *

_I_

_The old ones speak of a time, _

_when we were free, _

_to love who we wished the love, _

_to roam wherever the currents, _

_the winds, the roads, and mossy paths led us. _

_II_

_The old ones speak of a time, _

_when we had a home, _

_when we did not have to bend, _

_our heads, our knees, our backs, _

_our will. _

_III_

_The old ones speak of a time, _

_when we did not have to hide, _

_from the sun, _

_when we stood proudly upright, _

_when we laughed out loud, _

_when our tears could be seen. _

_IV_

_The old ones speak of a time, _

_when we did not have to whisper, _

_in the middle of the night, _

_like a mother's lullaby. _

_V_

_The old ones speak of a time, _

_when the world trembled, _

_at the sight of our fleets, _

_at the columns of our warriors, _

_proudly marching down foreign roads. _

_VI_

_The old ones speak of a time, _

_a time long past, _

_a time long ago, _

_a time that is slowly fading from memory._

_VII_

_Now the old ones are passing on, _

_their memories passed down, _

_in secret songs, _

_whispered in the darkness, _

_by the children of the flame. _

_VIII_

_Now the old ones are gone, _

_we sing their songs, _

_of a time long past, _

_a time long ago, _

_a history that has long gone, _

_past into dust, _

_into legend, _

_to only be a song, _

_to be sung, _

_by the crying, _

_children of the flame. _

* * *

**Four Generations After the War **

"What are you called?" snarled the man in green and gold.

The girl knew that there was no way to avoid the man's wraith. The only thing she could do was not to provoke him further. She prostrated herself on the floor cares to bury her face in the cold, unyielding tile.

"I am called Luli, or dewy jasmine, Master Yu."

Because of fear, the girl could not think straight. This was the first time she was tasked with actually serving at the master's table. It was the first time they dressed her up in a house servant's uniform. The heavy robe was far too big for her and she tripped over the hem. The heavy tray came out of her hand and the wine was spilled.

"Twelve lashes, here and now."

The young girl never was lashed before. The youngest slaves were not since visible marks lowered their value on the auction block. She witnessed the lash liberally applied to other, older slaves, but never so many. She was not supposed to be here. She was a scullery maid in training who barely was trusted to fetch the correct vegetables from the root cellars and bring up water from the well. However one of the higher ranking guests had a preference for on of the serving girls to keep him warm.

The castellan ordered the kitchen to provide another female servant to pour wine for the guests. It was a duty normally saved for an experienced servant, but since she was far too small to carry the platters of food she was tasked with the brining of wine to the butler who would inspect the bottles and handle the actual pouring.

Two valets walked up bowed. They dispassionately striped the robe off the young girl leaving her in her underclothes. One of them then untied her wrap.

"My lash."

A houseboy ran off towards the stables. Two minutes later, he breathlessly arrived with the master's riding crop.

The valets held the young girl down as the master struck the first of a dozen blows. The lash cut into the skin. The girl bit her lit to suppress a yelp.

"Count them off."

The girl whimpered, "One Master Yu."

Again the lash came down.

"Two Master Yu."

After three blows, the girl could not hold back the screams. After six, the screams became weak. After nine, the master had to kick the girl in the side to bring her back into this world.

After twelve, it was impossible to recognize the bloody thing as human. The girl was a slave...chattel property to her owner who had dozens more. Most masters would simply have spirited her away and traded her for another, hopefully more promising slave. However Master Yu was the second richest man in the province and would let his temper override any sense of economics.

The consequence was that the scullery maid in training was near death.

"Throw this one with the incorrigibles. This one is a lost."

The valets dragged her off as the houseboy started cleaning up the mess.

* * *

Luli woke up curled into a tight ball of pain. 

The air was blistering hot. The low metal roof was too low even to sit up and it was too hot to touch. Luli immediately knew where she was.

The incorrigibles were sometimes thrown in the sweat boxes. Some survived, but for many the sweat boxes meant a slow death from dehydration. The walls were designed so that a prisoner had to curl up into a tight ball and found himself slowly suffocating.

Luli closed her eyes.

Nine years of slavery and only today did she understand just how powerless a slave truly was. No amount of hard work could keep the lash off your back.

She hummed the melody of the ancient song some old auntie taught her as a baby.

_The old ones speak of a time, _

_when we were free, _

_to love who we wished the love, _

_to roam wherever the currents, _

_the winds, the roads, and mossy paths led us. _

Luli wondered what freedom was like. Was it like a stolen melon, sweet and sticky? Was it like a stolen pastery? Luli remember the songs, but the old ones that remembered what it was like to be free had long since died. Their children died and their grandchildren were dying.

Luli was among the fourth generation of slaves. The old songs spoke of how the gods sunk the homeland of the Children of the Flame. They spoke how families were deliberately divided. How they were scattered throughout the earth and how each one was marked by the scar of banishment.

Luli hand traced the scar on the left side of her face. Every child born of a slave was so marked within days of their birth. No matter where they ran away...the scar, the very mark of slavery would stay with them for the rest of their lives.

Luli could not remember the pain of her marking.

The air was stale and Luli found it harder and harder to breath. There was only one freedom for a slave.

Luli exhales and summoned a small flame in her palm. The flame consumed the air. Luli felt herself becoming more and more light headed as the flame grew weaker with every passing moment. Luli wondered what freedom would be like. In the moments before the darkness came, Luli imagined freedom as eating as much sweet melon pulp and licking the sticky juices off her fingers.


End file.
